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They had walked up together to the village and taken a table outside that was wrapped by a three-foot-high wrought iron fence. As usual, Waller’s men hovered at a nearby table. However, Pascal was not part of the security team tonight.
“Do they always go where you go?” Reggie asked as she observed the armed men.
“One of the prices that must be paid for success,” Waller said, spreading his arms in mock helplessness. He was dressed in a blue blazer with a white pocket kerchief, khaki slacks, white silk shirt, and royal blue deck shoes that showed his bare pale ankles. The air had not yet cooled from the day’s heat and there was a line of perspiration across his brow. She was sure there would be curves of sweat under his armpits too. Reggie had opted for a pale blue skort, yellow blouse, and white sandals, with a matching yellow scarf around her hair. There was no sweat on her face.
“It would be hard to imagine anyone trying to hurt anyone around here,” said Reggie as she finished her last bite of beef.
Waller sipped his wine and eyed her appraisingly. “It is serene here, bucolic. Beautiful.” He smiled. “Just as you are.”
At a wave from Waller the waiter brought a second bottle of the same wine and poured it out. Reggie picked up her full wineglass and began to swirl the liquid around, absently checking its color against the flame of the lighted candle set in a bowl in the middle of the table. “You mentioned that you might have children my age. Do you have children?”
He waved a hand carelessly. “No, I was merely speaking hypothetically. I suppose I was always too busy for children.”
“Wife?”
“If I had one now, she would be with me on this trip.”
“Had one now? So you were married?”
“Yes.”
“Did she pass away, or were you divorced?”
“Questions, questions,” he said in a casual tone, but his look was sterner.
“I’m sorry,” Reggie said. “I was just curious.”
“Both.”
“What?”
“The first one died and the second one divorced me.” He patted her hand. “You remind me a little of my first wife. She was beautiful too. And stubborn.”
“What was her name?”
Waller started to say something and then seemed to catch himself. “That is the past. I don’t dwell on the past. I live for the present and look to the future. Let’s finish this wonderful Bordeaux and then take a stroll and admire all things French.”
Later, he guided her back to the street where they set off, his arm through hers. She once more eyed the bodyguards. Waller followed her gaze.
She said, “I suppose for you it’s necessary, but I wouldn’t want to have to live my life that way.”
“But you yourself are obviously well off. You travel in style;
you rent luxurious villas in one of the most beautiful places on earth. Are you not worried about being kidnapped? Or even killed for your money?”
“I have no money with me unless you count a few euros. If they want my credit cards, they hardly have to kill me for that. And if they kidnap me there won’t be anyone to pay the ransom. So you see, I would be a very inadequate target for a criminal.”
“Perhaps you are right. Now, the man you’ve been seeing, he looks like he would make a competent bodyguard.”
“Bill does look like he can take care of himself.”
“Ah, so it’s Bill. His last name?”
“He didn’t tell me his last name,” she said truthfully. Whit had found it out for her.
This ignorance seemed to brighten Waller’s spirits. “Then you are not that friendly with him. I have only been here a short time and already you know my last name.”
“It’s not a competition, Evan.”
